


The Statement of Cecil Palmer

by E_V_Roslyn



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast), Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Body Horror, Buckle up, Character Death, Child Death, Crossover, Eventual Happy Ending, Genocide, Horror, M/M, Mentions of Antisemitism, Mentions of fascism, Mentions of genocide, Night Vale is a domain but not really AU, Not Really Character Death, timeloop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:55:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26601787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/E_V_Roslyn/pseuds/E_V_Roslyn
Summary: "In this friendly desert community, where the sun is hot, and the moon is beautiful, it is my role, as an active citizen, to witness and report on current events. I am well aware my occupation frequently leaves me in harm’s way. I’ve been in this job for... enough years to know this by heart. But never, in all my time, have I witnessed anything like this."A retelling of the WTNV episode, 167 - Echo, where things don't go so smoothly and told from the point of view of two outsiders dealing with their own horrors.
Relationships: Carlos/Cecil Palmer, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work was originally supposed to be part of a Rusty Quills event that ended in August. Due to unexpected events, I couldn't make the due date, but I figured I should finish my work and post it up here anyway.

The all-watching sky stretched above, its merciless gaze never ceasing upon its helpless victims below. This new world, inadvertently delivered by none other than The Archivist himself, created a horror-filled playground for the manifestation of the fears to feast on, the people of the earth trapped as nothing more than simple playthings. People with full lives and dreams and families became rag dolls that are manipulated, broken, and repaired only to be used again. Over and over, they remain caught in an endless loop of suffering in a world that does not care. Their fear is a resource to be extracted and humans are mines of diamonds.

Jonathan Sims cannot rid himself of this guilt. It wasn’t his fault, Martin kept telling him, but regardless, his existence as Archivist allowed the apocalypse to happen whether he intended it or not. So now, he must make things right and restore the world as it was. Easier said than done, but he does try. Is trying. This is a task that even he cannot do alone, so he travels with his best friend and lover, Martin Blackwood.

The two men walk hand-in-hand through the seemingly endless distance towards their destination. Time works differently in this new world, they discovered. Normal functions of the body such as hunger and fatigue became a thing of the past. Even after walking for hours, or possibly even days at a time without rest, they realized that they weren’t tired or sore at all. With the eye watching above, Jon theorized, such things were unnecessary. It was like time had stopped on their bodies entirely.

As they walked, Martin glared at the sky. Not because it was hard to see, but out of contempt and disdain for its existence. When he shifted his gaze to the environment around him, Martin realized he could no longer recognize the landscape from just moments before.

“Uh, Jon?” Martin spoke out timidly.

“Hmm?” Jon turned to his boyfriend, obviously distracted by his own thoughts.

“I don’t think we’re in the UK anymore.”

Jon, for the first time in at least an hour, turned his attention back to the here and now, and looked around to take in his surroundings: The mirage of water produced by the heat of the desert landscape danced wildly in his vision. Little grew on the sand and the dry, cracked ground other than the occasional Joshua tree or the scattered cacti of varying heights and shapes.

More alarmingly, the sky appeared normal. No eyes staring down at them. Just the pale, blue atmosphere and a scorching, hot sun above.

“What does this mean?” Martin asked. “Is it over?”

Jon stared up, eyes wide and mouth open, “No,” he said eventually. “I would know when it’s ended, but this...” he paused to collect himself. “You can still see the Panopticon off in the distance. Look carefully at it, Martin.”

Martin did as instructed and squinted to see better, “It’s still there, and the sky... That’s odd.”

“If you just look in that direction generally, the sky appears normal,” Jon explained. “But if you concentrate on the Panopticon itself, the eyes return. Whatever this place is, it exists not quite where the rest of the world exists. Something is off about this place, but I can’t tell what. That information is beyond my jurisdiction.”

“Okay...” Martin paused. “Can I ask if you know where we are?”

“We can see the institute from here, but where we exists nowhere near within the path to our destination,” Jon noted. “This part is just an educated guess, but I believe we’re somewhere in the American southwest. Somehow, we’ve left the country entirely.”

“The country?” Martin repeated. “We’ve left the bloody continent, Jon! How did this happen?”

“I’m not sure,” he answered. “I just know there must be a reason. We just have to find out what that is.”

They continued walking, and as they did, they could begin to make out the buildings of the nearest town up ahead. Gas station signs and the tops of two water towers and a radio station antenna appeared at the horizon at first. The further they walked, the more of the town came into view. and the more they realized this wasn’t an ordinary town at all.

Strange lights surrounded the town’s skies that looked nothing like the ceaseless watcher. Overhead a section of the town, a bright cloud that glowed in more colors than either could fathom strobed above in the desert sky.

Martin gasped, “This must be a domain!”

“I’m not sure of that yet,” Jon said, “But we are going in.”

Despite the dangers of the unknown that awaited the pair ahead, Jon marched towards the town and Martin hesitantly followed. Soon, they reached one of the main roads heading into town. They passed a large sign that read, “Welcome to Night Vale” in bold, white letters against a dark purple background.

“This isn’t like any of the other divisions we’ve been in,” Martin pointed out. “Is this The Spiral?”

“No,” Jon answered. “I still don’t know much about this place, but I think I would know if this were the division of The Spiral. All I know is this is a place that knows fear. There is so much fear here.”

“It’s so quiet, though...” Martin pointed out. He was right. They walked through what they believed to be the center of the town, with all its businesses and public areas in sight or nearby. But there wasn’t a soul in sight. Everything was still and unnaturally calm, and it was in this quiet and emptiness that unnerved Martin as nothing had before. “Where is everyone?”

A loud banging noise caused them both to jolt and turn towards its source. A trash can had toppled over, but an animal wasn’t to blame for this. Instead, Jon and Martin saw tall, dark figures. They had many eyes, large wings, and radiated a black light. They wept around the overturned trash can in silent tears.

“What are those things?” Martin asked.

“I... I don’t know,” Jon said, surprised at himself for not knowing. “I really cannot tell you,” he turned back to Martin. “But I have good reason to suspect that those things are unimportant to what we’re about to see.”

Martin paused, then asked, “And what are we about to see?”

“Something terrible,” Jon said simply. This he knew.

They continued walking in silence. Everywhere they looked they saw overturned cars, smashed windows, broken doors, and deserted homes. Every now and then something that looked like a small animal skittered down the empty street. Something more than silence hung in the air, like a calm before the storm.

Footsteps that were not their own broke the silence, and out from a corner emerged a man and a woman. Each were wearing dirtied clothing made of seat upholstery and both carried hastily made blood-stained weapons. Even though Jon and Martin knew they couldn’t see them, they got out of the way out of instinct.

“The pilot says there’s someone here,” the woman said. “Two children, he says.”

“Then let’s find the little piggies,” the man sang slowly. “Come out, come out wherever you are!”

From the sidewalk, Jon and Martin stared at the crazed couple, unsure of what to do other than watch. The man and woman paused, as if they were listening to something no one else could hear, then they entered one of the seemingly abandoned houses.

Moments later, screams echoed from that house that reverberated through the otherwise silent neighborhood. Jon feared for a moment that the couple had murdered whoever was inside, but instead, they exited the house with their victims alive and in tow.

A toddler screamed and wailed in the woman’s harsh grip, and the man pushed a wheelchair belonging to a scared teenaged girl, who tried to punch and hit and bite the man behind her but struggled through her rope bindings.

“Let me go, you monsters!” The girl cried. “Let my cousin go too!”

“You and your cousin are unworthy to participate in the truth of nature’s beauty,” the man retorted. “You are unworthy to the pilot, so don’t bother fighting.”

“Maybe we should chop off the brat’s arms,” the woman suggested. “Be less of a hassle to carry them back.”

“NO!” The girl cried out. “Please, he’s only a little kid! Don’t hurt him!”

The man stopped to face the girl, visibly threatening her with his bloodied weapon, “Then you need to do your part and make this easier for us, kid. Stay quiet, and we won’t hurt a hair on the boy’s head.”

The girl reluctantly complied after that, and the toddler had stopped screaming. Jon and Martin could only watch as those kids were carried away.

“We should follow them,” Martin said.

“Yeah, let’s follow the dangerous lunatics that like to kidnap disabled children for fun. That sounds fantastic!” Jon said in an unnaturally, upbeat tone.

Martin frowned, “Got any better ideas, then, Jon?”

Jon sighed, “You’re right. I’m sorry, Martin. Let’s just try to keep our distance from them. Just in case.”

“Alright, then. Lead the way,” he gestured.

They ventured off in the direction the kidnappers went. Other than the sound of their footsteps, everything returned to its stillness. The air smelled of smoke and copper.

“So what do you know now?” Martin asked.

“What do you mean?” Jon replied.

“You said this place doesn’t belong to any one entity,” Martin explained. “So maybe this is like a potluck of several fears intermingling in one spot.”

“Possibly,” Jon agreed. “The Spiral must have something to do with the overall nature of the town. There’s something surreal about its environment.”

“That and those creatures we saw back there,” Martin reminded him.

“Yes, and that. Those kids were hunted by those people in rags,” Jon added. “They claimed that the pilot is telling them who is or isn’t worthy. The pilot, whoever that is, may be controlling them.”

“So that’s the Hunt and the Web,” Martin concluded. “Is this you guessing or are you knowing this?”

“I’m guessing,” Jon answered. “My abilities aren’t completely working here, so I only know what you know for now. I’ll tell you if that changes,” he promised.

Ahead of them, the kidnappers passed a few other people dressed in similar upholstery rags. Their skin was dried and tanned from years of sun exposure and caked in dirt, sand, and blood. These people allowed the kidnappers to pass through with the children in tow without a word between them.

The further Martin and Jon walked, the more people came into view, but the more they saw, the more disturbed they became at the scene before them. There were dozens, maybe hundreds of people in a similar state of dress as the man and woman. All of them carried hastily-made weapons and smiled wickedly at their victims. Most people there were dressed regularly with their hands bound with rope and huddled in a tight group in a large pit that was somehow large enough to contain the town’s entire population.

“I don’t like this,” Martin said.

“I don’t either,” Jon agreed.

They watched helplessly as the man and woman dumped the girl into the pit like she were nothing more than mulch. The man tilted the wheelchair and the girl tumbled down and disappeared from view. With an astounding display of strength, he threw the empty wheelchair some dozen yards away in a pile of other discarded equipment.

As for the boy, the woman holding him was about to throw him in as well, but she paused for a brief moment, like the pilot, whoever he was, was speaking to her again.

She turned to the man, “The pilot wants this one alive for now,” she began carrying the boy away, who had stopped screaming and instead cried softly. “This is the child of one of his chosen ones. The voice of this town, he said,” she said.

“I want my daddy. I want my poppy,” the boy whimpered out, but could only clutch onto the woman’s rags as she carried him out of view.

Still hidden from their view, Martin spoke out, “We got to do something! We can’t just let these people be slaughtered like cattle!”

Jon shook his head, “I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do. All we can do is watch,” he admitted. “There’s a statement here. I’m going to start now, Martin,” he warned and turned towards the other man. “Are you-“

“I’ll be anywhere else but here,” Martin spoke quickly. “I’d rather not see this one.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read the tags for content warnings on this one!

Jon waited until Martin was out of sight before he began.

_In this friendly desert community, where the sun is hot, and the moon is beautiful, it is my role, as an active citizen, to witness and report on current events. I am well aware my occupation frequently leaves me in harm’s way. I’ve been in this job for... enough years to know this by heart. But never, in all my time, have I witnessed anything like this._

_This had all started as a mildly interesting story about a missing plane and a missing air pilot controller. I hadn’t the slightest idea how far my involvement in this story would escalate. For seven years, the deserted survivors of the missing plane made do with the resources they had. They had created, what was at first, a peaceful commune in the desert otherworld. The pilot took charge as the leader, providing careful instructions and words of encouragement, and the passengers would listen and act accordingly._

_But something changed in these people. Somehow, the pilot became so good at communicating to the passengers that eventually, he didn’t have to speak at all. He gained the ability to merely think of what he wanted to say and everyone he wanted to communicate to received his thoughts telepathically. I do not know if the telepathy came first or the corruption had. I do not know if one would have prevented the other either way. The matter of fact is, well, how much do you remember on your history of fascism?_

_I was raised Jewish. My family is all too familiar with the history of antisemitism. This pilot, in his sick and twisted mind, believed that nature is beauty and all that is deemed ‘not beautiful’ by his standards should be killed to create fertilizer for beautiful things to grow on top of. The passengers listen to his philosophies religiously; they follow his orders without question. I do not know how many of those people were only brainwashed into believing him and how many genuinely agree with his ideologies. It doesn’t matter either way. The end result is the same._

_The pilot and his passengers escaped that desert with aid from one of our own. They are here now. He is in our minds. I can hear him in my head. He says that I am beautiful, and so I must join him. If I join him, I would be forced to kill my entire family and anyone else he rejects. If I refuse his sick offer, I will die. I refused. Some had accepted his offer, and I don’t have the will to be angry at them for it. He ordered his passengers, and anyone in town he was able to control and add, to collect every remaining citizen and bring them here._

_Do you know what it’s like to be forcibly torn apart from the one person that means more to you than anything else in the world? They stole my husband, my life and my anchor, from me. They ripped him right out of my arms and took him away. Rarely have I felt as scared as I had in that moment, when I didn’t know when or if I would see him again. The passengers tied my hands with thick, scratchy rope and took me to where they collected everyone else in our town called Night Vale. I could see a few faces I recognized. I’m a reporter that has lived here my entire life, after all, but I couldn’t see any sign of my husband or the rest of my family._

_Being forced into those crowds of helpless people felt suffocating. I smelled the blood and felt the sweat-soaked skin of those pressed too close around me. Children screamed for their parents. Some hopelessly yelled out for loved ones. Others screamed out of fear. Some, defeated, could only cry silently, knowing what was to come._

_Ahead of the crowd stood three people on elevated platforms. In the center stood the pilot, his stature tall and authoritarian. Despite being lost in the desert for years, his original uniform somehow remained in pristine condition. Badges and hat and all. The man on his left I recognized as Doug Biondi, the man who escaped the Night Vale insane asylum and led the pilot to our town. On the pilot’s right stood a woman in her late forties. Amelia Anna Alfaro, the missing air pilot controller that disappeared shortly after the pilot’s plane vanished from radar. She was supposed to be our last hope, the only one who could save us, but the pilot had gotten to her already. Her own mother couldn’t even get her to see reason._

_Doug held his weapon, his expression thick with blood lust, anxiously waiting for the order to kill. The pilot sent out one last message to my mind, and the minds of all the others he deemed worthy, that this was our final chance to surrender to his will._

_One Night Vale citizen, whom I recognized, but will not name, worked their way from the crowd to join the ranks of the passengers._

_The pilot smiled almost fondly at this one final surrender, then declared out loud to the rest of us, ‘None of you are worthy. None of you are deserving to cherish nature’s beauty at its fullest potential. You all must die,’ he turned to his right. ‘At your word, Amelia.’_

_A rise in panic erupted from the crowd. Some tried to push their way through each other. Others only vocally protested, Some held onto their loved ones and whispered their final ‘I love you’s to each other. I attempted to look through the crowd one last time to find my family. I saw no trace of my husband since we separated, and I couldn’t find our son. He’s only two and a half and I had left him with my sister’s family where I believed he would be safer. I couldn’t see any of them either. I could only hope they escaped in time._

_I looked back at Amelia. Silently praying that somehow she will see reason in time to stop the pilot and prevent this needless tragedy. I wanted to say something, anything, that would help, but I knew it would be pointless to try. Her gaze showed no mercy._

_‘Kill them,’ Amelia ordered._

_The rest of my short life from that moment exploded into chaos and confusion. The passengers and the pilot’s new recruiters raised their rusted weapons and surged at the screaming crowd, their cries now amplified by the immediate threats._

_How could I describe what happened next? Everything went so fast I could barely process the sight of splattered blood and the growing number of dead and dying bodies. Some attempted to escape, but I couldn’t see anyone succeed that attempt. Panicked people pushed me to the ground, and several, by accident, kicked me in the face and sides. I found that, aside from being trampled on, this position worked temporarily to my favor._

_I crawled further into the crowd, not with the intention of escaping, but with the intention of finding my family. After that, I don’t know. I lost track of how many people kicked me, stepped on me, or tripped over me. All I knew is that the longer I crawled, the fewer people were left standing, and the sooner I would be next._

_Far too late, I found a face I recognized. My sister’s husband, a man that, despite our differences, I grew to love as a brother. His eyes were vacant and shone like glass. He didn’t move. I quickly grew aware of how much blood was on and around him._

_A sob escaped my lips. If my brother-in-law was dead, what hope did the rest of them have? What hope did I have? My husband and son could be dead already for all I knew, and I couldn’t even see them one last time._

_Tears blinded my vision, and all I could smell was blood and viscera. The screams were nearly all gone. All I could do now is choose to either cry my heart out and hope they kill me quickly or play dead and hope they left me alone._

_I didn’t have to make that choice. I felt a hand grab my arm and pull me up to my feet harshly. The aches in my sides prevented me from fully standing and I only now noticed I had a nosebleed. With her other hand, Amelia pressed the flat of a sharp object against my throat. For the first time in my career, I didn’t dare say a word._

_‘What should we do with this one, pilot?’ she asked. ‘Isn’t he one of your chosen ones?’_

_I made the mistake of looking around me. The sight of the blood-soaked ground and mangled, chopped-up corpses mixed with the strong odor of open flesh made me heave and vomit on myself. She pulled the blade away from my neck and pushed me back into the ground in disgust. All I could do was try to control my stomach from turning itself inside out._

_‘Pity,’ the pilot said. ‘Can’t even enjoy the view of nature’s beauty without losing his lunch. And here I thought we could have benefited from someone like you.’_

_‘This isn’t beauty,’ I coughed. I wiped my mouth with my shirt sleeve. ‘Nothing about this is beautiful. You murdered thousands in cold blood! You killed my family. Everyone I loved is gone,’ I coughed again, then glared at the pilot. ‘You took everything away from me. I will never work for anyone like you.’_

_I spat on the ground in front of him to emphasize my point, but the pilot only smiled in response._

_‘I didn’t take everything from you yet,’ he said, gesturing behind me._

_I turned around, and to my horror and relief, a passenger held a struggling toddler I would recognize anywhere._

_‘DADDY!’ My son screamed. He fruitlessly kicked and cried out as hard as he could with his small body. ‘DADDY, HELP!’_

_‘ESTEBAN!’ I shouted. ‘Bun-bun, you’ll be okay! Daddy’s here!’_

_The pilot spoke, and I turned back around to face him only to realize he was speaking through my mind once more. ‘I will let your son live,’ he said. ‘In return, you will be my voice. You will deliver the message of nature’s beauty to the world. I have been generous, Cecil. It would be foolish to pass this up.’_

_‘What will happen to Esteban?’ I asked._

_‘He will grow up, as children do,’ the pilot answered. ‘I will even bestow the honor of raising the boy to replace me one day. He will lead future generations of the world and show them the true power of nature.’_

_‘No,’ I said instantly, shaking my head. ‘No, I won’t let you do this. Let him live, let him have nothing to do with you, with any of this, and I will do whatever you say.’_

_‘Unfortunately, that isn’t an option,’ the pilot spoke out loud, shaking his head in disapproval. ‘I can’t let your son live unless he’s trained for worthiness. If you are not willing to train him, he must serve his purpose as fertilizer for new beauty to emerge from.’_

_‘He’s a CHILD!’ I pleaded. ‘He’s all I have left! PLEASE!’_

_‘Then choose, Cecil,’ he urged. ‘Let me mold your child into greatness and have the honor of serving me, or you both die. It shouldn’t be this hard to decide.’_

_‘Daddy, help me!’ Esteban cried out again._

_I turned towards him. His face was wet from tears, his skin was paler than usual, and he had cuts on him that weren’t there when I had last seen him, I had never seen him so scared and helpless before. And there was nothing I could do to help him._

_My clenched hands dug into the blood-soaked earth. I lowered my head and let out a defeated sob. I felt the last of my hope drain out of me. A father should never be put in this situation, yet here I was, trapped and alone. Within the dirt, my fingers brushed against sharp metal. I held back my reaction as I realized then that I still had one final chance to act._

_Above me stood a sick man forcing a desperate father to make a terrible choice. Can you blame me for my choice? Would you have blamed me if I chose differently? Or am I about to make the worse mistake of my life that would get myself and my son killed? What alternative was there, really?_

_I closed my eyes and slowed my breaths. Discreetly, I grasped the metal object in my hand. I thought about my husband. I thought about my sister, my brother-in-law, and my niece. I thought about all my friends and loved ones I came to know throughout my life, some who’ve died years ago and still miss dearly, I could see their faces plain as day before me. Whatever came next, I would see them again, at least. At least I’ll be reunited with my husband soon._

_‘You killed Carlos,’ I reminded the pilot. I hid the anger in my tone behind my defeat. ‘He was my anchor. The only thing that kept me from joining you.’_

_‘That is correct,’ the pilot agreed._

_Painfully pushing myself up, I stood wearily on my feet. I felt sore everywhere. I felt blood on my neck from where Amelia threatened me with the knife I now had, hidden away inside my sleeve._

_‘You know what I want. I want to live,’ I said, stepping forward. ‘I want my son to live. I’ll join you.’_

_The pilot laughed mockingly, ‘A wise choice, Cecil. I knew you’d make the right decision.’_

_I took another step towards him, but I could feel my original intent slipping away from me. The pilot attempted to take over my mind, and without Carlos, all I could do was imagine he was still here with me. I had to pretend that he was still alive._

_I could see his gorgeous brown eyes, the way he would look at me to comfort me. I could hear his voice, soothing like caramel with oaky tones, and I would fall in love all over again when I heard his cute laughs. I could smell his cologne, the scent that reminded me of his comforting chest when I rested my head against it every night. I could feel his worn, yet skilled hands work their magic on my body whenever we made love, and I could taste his sweet lips against mine. I remember exactly the taste of the expensive, lavender lipbalm he used on our wedding night and on the rare, special occasions since then._

_More and more memories of Carlos flooded and overwhelmed my senses until the pilot had to pull back out of my mind._

_‘Why are you still resisting?’ The pilot demanded. ‘It’s no use. Your anchor is dead and you only serve me now. You must give in, Cecil. It’s the only way.’_

_‘We’ll see about that!’ Without hesitating, I lurched forward and stabbed the metal into the pilot’s arm, when I had aimed for the neck. He had seen the attack coming and shielded himself with his arm. The pilot cried out in pain and stumbled back in shock, but somehow still stood, grasping at the wound with his opposite hand. I ran forward and wrapped my hands around his throat, forcing us both to the ground._

_Never in my life had I experienced such raw anger, I wanted nothing more than to kill him with my bare hands. No, kill is too kind a word. I wanted to slaughter him like he had slaughtered my family. All my strength focused on my hands on his neck, choking him with whatever I had left in me. I took sick pleasure in watching him gag and struggle under my weight._

_Sudden, searing pain in my skull disoriented me. Two hands grabbed me and forced me away from the pilot, despite my protests. I screamed and kicked, but Amelia was stronger than I had anticipated, and she forced me into the ground, face down. I felt something wet on my scalp, knowing it was blood from where I had been struck._

_‘Kill them both!’ the pilot ordered._

_I closed my eyes and braced myself for pain followed by nothingness. Instead, I heard the screams of a child, and I screamed with him. Not from pain, but of the realization that I had failed. I failed Esteban. I failed Carlos. I failed everyone in Night Vale. I cried. I didn’t want to see my son dying, but that didn’t stop me from hearing it._

_Finally, it was silent again, except for my helpless sobs. I cried out when I felt something stab my back, pull out violently and one more blow was all it took._

_In my final breaths, I felt regret for what I have done. Should I have chosen to allow myself and my son to live? And at what cost? How many more will die after me? Could I have prevented more deaths if I had complied? It was too late to ponder these thoughts. I felt remorse for Esteban. His life had been cut so short. Too short. I thought about my sister and her daughter. I remembered my brother-in-law’s lifeless face. I remembered the blood and the heavy stench of death. My heart ached for my husband. If only I were granted the mercy of letting me see him one last time..._

“End recording.”

Jon paused and let out a shuddered breath at the sight before him, which only now he truly had a chance to take in. The bloody, mangled remains of this unfortunate town permeated his vision. Those that remained- those people that had massacred thousands of innocent lives, just acted like everything was just fine. Some began shoveling sand and dirt into the pit. Others engaged in mild conversations. A child in rags that looked no older than seven picked up a blood-soaked teddy bear that had belonged to one of the town’s children and played with it, blissfully ignoring the scope of what had happened in favor of light-hearted playtime.

“This is the worst one yet,” he said to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a couple of lines of text at the beginning of this chapter that I copied directly from the WTNV episode's transcript. Those lines are italicized and I've tried to keep direct quotes as minimal as possible on this fic.

A couple blocks down, Martin tried keeping himself occupied while Jon made his statement. He tried counting backward from 90 in French in his head. He tried reciting a few favorite lines of poetry out loud. He tried keeping tally of every broken window he saw. No matter what he did to pass the time, or how far away he walked, he couldn’t escape the screams. With each encounter they’ve had so far, he had to learn to adjust to the sounds of victims in hopeless terror and agony.

Martin stumbled and let out an embarrassing yelp as he fell, landing on his stomach under the weight of the backpack he carried. He pushed himself back up on his feet and turned around to see what caused him to trip.

It was a small, dirty, battery-powered radio.

“That’s odd,” he commented. Martin picked up the radio to examine it. “How did this get here? Unless it’s for me?” he wondered.

He turned the radio on and played with the dial to find a frequency. For a moment Martin only received static, but after a moment, he got something. A low voice spoke through the radio static, “ _...brainwashed... clan of flight... prisoners-_ “

He vaguely remembered the direction of the radio tower and walked that way. Soon he could hear the voice loud and clear.

“ _..the last left. We cannot see the pilot, but he can see us, and it is not long until his minions are here with me...”,_ more static. _“We are the last to be reaped, the last to be gathered._...”

The radio shuts off again, and there is silence.

“That’s... weird,” Martin said. He played with the radio some more but couldn’t hear anything else out of it. “If this were a normal radio in a normal world, I’d say the batteries are dead, but somehow I doubt that...”

“ _And right you are!_ ” A different voice exclaimed from the radio.

“AH!” Martin nearly dropped the radio out of surprise, “A-Annabelle?”

“ _Don’t be surprised. I know you were expecting to hear from me again._ ”

Martin sighed, “Well, yes, I was, actually. So is this town all your doing?”

Annabelle Cane laughed heartily, “ _Ah, no-no-no. Not the entire town. This town belongs to... let’s say other entities. Lovely people. I’m only pulling the strings on one man. Quite hard to come by, that one._ ”

More distant cries and screams echo from beyond the streets.

“So this is all you,” he accused. “You controlled the leader- the pilot, and he’s controlling those people that are killing innocents.”

“ _You are so clever, Martin, I commend your wit!_ ” She exclaimed in a way that was nearly indistinguishable from sarcasm.

“Don’t patronize me.”

“ _I would never. I mean it_ ,” she insisted. “ _Where’s that Archivist of yours anyway?_ ”

“You already know the answer to that one.”

“ _Oh, yes, I’m sure he’s enjoying the little show I put together for him."_

“Jon doesn’t like doing this," Martin sneered, growing defensive, "he just has to. He’s repulsed by all of this!”

Annabelle laughed loud enough it caused the radio to go static for a moment, " _Sweetheart, plenty of us have thought the same thing in our own beginnings. What makes you believe he has an incentive to bring the world back to how it was? There’s no changing his nature. No matter what happens, he will always be The Archivist_.”

“Fuck off,” Martin spat. He turned the radio off and threw it with all his strength into an empty parking lot.'

“Jon must be done by now,” he figured. Martin walked back that way. But he quickly regretted it when he remembered too late what he was walking back into.

The mass of dark red was the first thing Martin noticed, It didn’t take long before he came close enough to see more details of the fleshy and bloody mess. Jon stood vacantly at what remained of the town’s people.

“Jon! Jon!” Martin yelled, turning his walk into a sprint. He stopped in front of Jon and shook him out of it. “Jon, are you okay?”

“Yes,” Jon said automatically, still staring at the scene. “Yes, I’m fine.”

Martin made the mistake of following his line of sight. He knew what he was looking at, but he was far closer to the scene than he wanted to be. The smell of blood and viscera permeated his senses. And the realization that those people were all well alive only moments before...

Martin knelled over and wretched. His body wanted to vomit, but he hadn’t needed to eat or perform other normal bodily functions for God knows how long. All he could do was let his stomach heave out what little it contained.

He felt warm hands coaxing his back as he coughed through the rest of it.

“Are you okay, Martin?” Jon asked.

“I’m not sure,” he answered honestly. “This one is pretty bad.”

“I know.”

“Let’s just get out of here.”

“Alright.”

Martin allowed Jon to help him back up, and the two of them tried not to linger any longer in that section of the town. They walked a straight line, following the tower constantly ahead of them on the horizon.

When they reached the edge of town, they found several more of those strange, tall, dark creatures. Groups of them huddled and cried around trash cans lit on fire. Some glided aimlessly down streets, asking nobody for ten dollars.

Jon stopped walking suddenly, and Martin, following the hint, stopped as well.

“I think we’re missing something here,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Martin asked.

“In my statement, nothing about these things were mentioned. Nothing about the glowing cloud or the strange lights either. I don’t know what they are or why they’re here, even when I try to Know. There must be something left to learn in this place.”

“...Okay,” Martin spoke hesitantly. “But what purpose would there be to learn about any of this? I don’t see how glowing clouds have anything to do with killing Elias.”

“It’s important. I want to say this information is important for something, but I don’t know what,” Jon stressed.

“Everyone’s dead,” Martin reminded him. “What’s left to explore?”

“I don’t know. I just... it’s my abilities aren’t working here. I think that means that there’s something here preventing me from knowing something I need to know. Maybe it is a way to kill Elias. Maybe it’s something else helpful to us,” he theorized. “There must be something more here I’m not getting.”

Martin paused, his expression showing concern towards Jon, “We have to be careful though,” he warned. “Annabelle is responsible for this.”

“What makes you so sure of that?” Jon asked.

“Back when you were making your statement, she spoke to me through a radio. She was taunting me. Said that, well, it’s not her domain really, but she is controlling the pilot responsible for all this,” he explained.

Jon nodded, “I’d say that makes more sense than this being her domain entirely, but that doesn’t explain what those creatures are or anything about the strange nature of this town. The statement provided no detail of anything else here other than the pilot and his passengers. Either that man wasn’t aware of what else was happening or he just didn’t believe it was important enough to mention it. I wouldn’t have entirely blamed him for leaving out a few details, all things considered,” he admitted.

They stood in silence, unsure of their next move.

“You may be right,” Martin said eventually, “that there must be something we need to get out of this. But we should be smart about it.”

“Or maybe my thirst for knowledge is going to get us sidetracked and killed,” Jon pointed out.

“As I said, we need to be smart about this.”

Martin led Jon away in the opposite direction and they walked down the streets, back further into the town.

They turned at a corner and found themselves on the road near where they found the pit. They noticed those people again. Those crazed, controlled killers dressed in dirty seat upholstery. They noticed that the blood that covered their skin and clothes had all vanished. And the bloodthirst in their expressions they had thought had been sated was clearly not.

“There’s no one left for them to kill,” Martin pointed out. “Who would be left?”

Screams returned to the atmosphere as Jon and Martin noticed passengers returning with more victims.

They followed the source of the screaming and found the pit. It was clean like nothing had happened, but it was still filling with innocent people tied with rope. The exact same people they had just seen murdered.

“I’ve never seen one of these places reset before,” Jon commented. “Usually the fear just keeps going.”

“But usually these things never end in murder,” Martin pointed out. “That must be why. Whoever runs this place wants these people to experience fear and death over and over. It would be more merciful to just end it.”

“You can’t exactly keep a fear going if no one is left alive to be afraid.”

Martin looked desperately at the growing crowd of victims, torn on what he should do, “Well, we have to do something to help them!” he exclaimed.

His boyfriend narrowed his eyes at Martin quizzically, “We can’t just jump in and save them if that’s what you mean. There’s nothing we could have done for anyone else we’ve come across so far, so why would this be any different?”

“I don’t know,” Martin admitted quietly. “But I want to try.”

Jon gently held Martin’s hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly. “That’s why we’re going to the institute,” Jon reminded him in a hushed tone. “It’s the only way we can help anyone.”

“Then if we can’t help anyone, then what are we still here for?”

“I just have to figure some stuff out. Like whose division this is and what those tall things are.”

“And not Knowing this is bothering you?” Martin asked.

“It’s killing me,” Jon admitted.

Martin decided not to ask if this was literal or not. He wondered how long he’d have to wait until he sees the same girl and her young cousin again. He didn’t want to see them again unless he knew he could help them somehow.

"You said Annebelle spoke to you?" Jon mentioned. "What else did she say?"

"She said..." he hesitated, "that there are other entities responsible for the nature of this town. I'm not sure it has anything to do with these fears. I heard another voice on the radio before her though."

“Did you hear anything else useful?” Jon asked.

Martin sighed, “Not really. He mentioned something about brainwashing and being reaped. Presumably stuff we already know about. I did see a radio station when we arrived, so I know it’s from a local signal.”

Jon glanced in that general direction, “Yes, I saw that station too. I believe we should try looking there first.”


	4. Chapter 4

The radio station appeared to be in disarray when they arrived. The doors and windows were boarded up, likely to protect the people still inside, but Jon and Martin knew it was a fruitless effort. In the end, it will only delay the inevitable.

Sure enough, the killers were there already. They barged in, smashing windows and breaking down doors. Moments later, they reemerged out of the station with their victims in tow. Two men looked worse for wear than the rest of those kidnapped. They fought against their kidnappers, persistent, but in vain.

“Let Carlos go, you bastards!” One of them shouted. Martin recognized his voice from the radio. Jon recognized him as Cecil, the man from the statement.

“Shut up or I’ll slit his throat now and be done with it!” a woman threatened. She held a rusted blade at the husband’s throat and did not seem like the type to bluff.

Cecil stayed compliant after that, but he kept his gaze on his husband as if his life depended on it. And it absolutely did.

Jon silently wished that Martin was right. That there was a way he could help these people and prevent this massacre from happening altogether. All they could do was watch as the remaining people left in that building were carried away by the passengers.

Once it was quiet, they slipped inside and worked their way through the halls. Neither were sure what they’re supposed to find, or perhaps, what they’re not supposed to find. Within the building laid an eerily long and dimmed hallway. Jon could tell by its ON AIR sign which door led to the radio booth, however, that wasn’t what drew their attention.

That was the door at the very end of the hallway.

Shifting light beneath the doorway signaled that something was still in that room, but whatever it was, it clearly wasn’t human and too terrifying for even ravenous, mind-controlled killers to confront.

“What is that?” Martin asked.

Jon stared at the door, its base oozing an unidentifiable, viscous liquid, “The sign only says ‘Station Management’. Whatever that means. We don’t want that door anyway.”

They went into the radio booth instead. Inside the room were gray, soundproof walls, a desk with an old, yellowed soundboard, a recently abandoned chair, and a microphone. Next to the chair was a modest houseplant and a small, boarded-up window. The atmosphere in the room weighed heavily on them like someone was watching them.

“Martin. Someone’s here,” Jon said.

“What?” Martin asked. “Where?”

“I don’t know. It just feels like someone’s watching.”

“You’re right,” A female voice chimed in, seemingly from nowhere, “I’m right here. Just behind you.”

Martin and Jon both turned around but saw nothing.

“Where are you?” Jon asked. “What are you?”

“To answer your questions in order, I am just outside your vision. I am always behind you. Hiding in the walls, on the ceiling, in dark corners you don’t pay much attention to. To answer your second question, I am The Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In Your Home,” she answered. “Well, not your home. I’ve never seen either of you two before. But I do live in the homes of every resident of Night Vale.”

“Then why are you living in this radio station?” Martin asked.

“Home can mean many things,” she answered. “To some people, this station is like a second home to them. This is also the home of Station Management, as well as to a cat and its litter of kittens that all hover in fixed points in space, floating at various heights in the unisex bathroom. If someone within this town views a building as a home, then I secretly live in it.”

Jon chose to ignore that last part to instead ask, “Why can’t we see you?”

“Because nobody can see me,” said The Faceless Old Woman. “Not even someone as... unusual as yourself. I don’t usually come across anyone of your... nature.”

“Are you an avatar?” Jon asked. “Are you one of the entities responsible for the nature of this town?”

“No,” she said simply. “I have lived in this town for a very long time, but I’m not to blame for why this town isn’t like other towns, and I am not what you would call an avatar. I don’t actively seek out to harm others most of the time. It becomes lonely occasionally, never being seen, and while I do like to move around people’s possessions and tell houseflies where to lay their eggs, I feel love for the people of Night Vale. Not a romantic love, not a maternal love, and not a platonic love either. My love would be more like the love between a deer and a cornfield.”

Martin and Jon were silent for a moment, unsure of what to say next. Martin eventually spoke up, “What about the pilot? Do you know anything about him?”

“I know he came from somewhere else. The pilot and the passengers of flight 18713 are strangers to Night Vale. I know as much as the rest of the town knows: That he wants to exterminate everything that isn’t his idea of beauty.”

“And he succeeds,” Jon finished. “We’ve watched what happened to this town once before and it’s happening again. These tragic events keep repeating in an endless, tormenting loop, and we need to break that cycle. Is there any way you can help us?”

The Faceless Old Woman hummed in a curious tone, “You outsiders are strange. You have good intentions, I can see that much. I can also see that you are not quite human,” she paused again. “I do know someone you can talk to. She’s a good friend of mine. She’s also the god that watches over this town,” she added off-handedly. “Her name is Huntokar. She is identified as a woman with the head of a deer. You will find her only if she chooses to find you.”

“Well, what can we do to get her attention?” Jon asked. “Because we can’t wait around for a god to find us.”

“Jon!” Martin interrupted. “You can’t just say things like that about a goddess. That’s rude.”

“Whatever happened to Kill Bill?” Jon quipped back.

“We already know about the entities we want to kill,” Martin explained. “We know nothing about this one. She could be neutral, like Helen? Or maybe even friendly.”

“You have a point, Martin,” Jon conceded. “But we still need to find her and talk to her.”

The Faceless Old Woman cleared her throat, “If she wants you to find her, then she’ll give you a sign. Look for the cockroaches.”

“Cockroaches?” Jon repeated. “Okay, alright. What do you know about those tall, dark creatures? Why are they here? What about the strange, glowing cloud?”

No one replied.

“Faceless Old Woman?” Jon asked.

“She must have left,” Martin commented.

They stood in silence for a moment.

“Well, now what?” Martin asked.

Jon looked around cautiously, “I don’t see a need to stay here any longer. Might as well try to find those cockroaches.”

As they made their way out the radio booth and out the station, Martin spoke, “Isn’t all this strange to you? I mean, stranger than usual? A god that only rules a single town? A... A faceless old woman? Mysterious dark, winged creatures? Hovering cats in the loo?”

To indicate the last point, Martin pointed in an open room where there were indeed multiple cats, one larger than the rest, hovering in fixed points next to the sink in the bathroom. Or at least, the woman from before said those were cats.

“I... don’t think those are cats,” Jon said nervously. “Cats don’t tend to have more than two eyes.”

“Or pincers,” Martin added.

“Or wings.”

“Or tentacles.”

The largest of the “cats” let out a noise somewhere between a low growl and an ear-splitting shriek, displaying its tentacles and multiple rows of teeth more prominently. Both winced in pain, covering their ears to block the deafening sound. Martin managed to close the restroom door to muffle the noise, and the cat stopped screaming almost immediately.

“Do you see my point?” Martin asked. “This place is different from anywhere else we’ve been. There’s something weird going on here. And not the kind of weird we’re used to.”

“Then we’ll have to get used to this kind of weird,” Jon merely stated.

Together, they walked out of the building, unsure of their next move.

“Maybe whatever is keeping us here is distracting us,” Jon decided. “Whatever this is may be intentionally trying to stop us from reaching the Panopticon.”

“Maybe,” Martin said, “but the worst it’s doing so far is delaying our arrival. We can leave at any time. And we have all the time in the world now anyways.”

They walked back through the town for some distance, intermittently pausing to see those killers in rags leading people to their inescapable deaths.

“Martin?” Jon spoke up after a while.

“Yeah, Jon?”

Jon gestured to a public bench nearby and sat down, “Let’s stop here for a moment. I need to ask you something.”

Martin sat down with him and only realized right then and there how sore his legs were getting. He felt the relief that came when sitting down after hours on your feet.

“How are you feeling right now?” he asked, resting his hand over Martin’s.

“I feel... tired,” he said, surprised by himself.

“Do you feel hungry? Or thirsty?” Jon prompted.

Martin paused, then answered, “Yeah. Both. That’s strange.”

Despite the long hours, possibly days spent walking, neither Jon nor Martin grew tired or sore. No blistered feet. No drowsiness. No hunger or sunburns. Not even a need for water overcame them since this new world took over the very laws of human biology. They mostly spent their voyage, when not trespassing domains, engaging in small talk, or otherwise merely enjoying each other’s presence in silence. That seemed to change now. This strange town became an exception to the rules they had no choice but to grow accustomed to.

“Another weird thing about this place,” Jon added. “Time seems to function normally for our bodies, but not for anyone else. And not anywhere else.”

“Well, if that’s the case, then we need to find someplace to rest and something to eat,” Martin said. “I packed food, even though I knew we wouldn’t need it, but I guess we do now.”

“The bench isn’t going to cut it for us. We need a place to sleep.”

“We could just find an empty home and sleep in there,” Martin suggested. “I don’t think anyone here will notice us.”

“Alright. Sounds like a plan,” Jon agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole idea I had of Jon and Martin experiencing human needs, such as hunger, again after entering a blind spot of the Eye was written well before episode 180 came out.


	5. Chapter 5

After a few moments of deciding where to stay, they came to the conclusion that they should check along the houses near the edge of town to see which ones were abandoned enough to where nobody would come in and out during the cycles. Along the way, they noticed more of those tall, dark beings, and one of them, they noticed, was looking right at them.

“I think that thing is watching us,” Martin spoke up.

Jon stared at the being, and sure enough, it stared back with its ten eyes, It walked- no, it glided towards them. They both took a couple of steps back impulsively, The being that glowed a black light stood just a couple meters away from the couple and stared down at them without a hint of expression.

Jon concentrated, and he spoke, “Why are you here?” in a demanding voice. He only remembered after saying this that he didn’t have the power to force the being to speak. Jon moved in front of Martin to divide him from the being, but it still moved in on them.

It loomed unnaturally tall above them ever closer than before and spoke in a deep voice:

“Ya got ten bucks?”

Jon and Martin glanced at each other, then back at the being, both unsure of how to respond.

The being spoke up again, “You know I’m real, right?”

“Uh,” Martin stuttered, “y-yeah, I think so? Sorry, we just weren’t expecting... Who are you?”

“I’m Erika,” it said.

Jon paused, “Okay, Erica...”

“No, it’s Erika. With a ‘k’,” it clarified.

“Alright, Erika,” Jon said, slower. “And, if you don’t mind me asking... What are you?”

“I’m an angel,” it replied. “You got ten bucks or what?”

“No, sorry,” Jon spoke naturally. “Left my wallet back home.”

“What would an angel need money for?” Martin asked.

“Not everyone gets to know everything,” the angel, Erika, said, rolling all ten of their eyes.

“Look, we’re a little lost,” Jon spoke up. “Well, not lost, but confused. Are you part of one of the fears?”

“I don’t know what that means,” Erika said.

Jon sighed, “Okay, then, let’s try this: Are you aware that the events in this town are looping endlessly?”

“That can’t be right,” the angel interjected. “Time works normally in this town. It has been for... almost a year now? If time’s not working, then we’re in big trouble...”

“And what does that mean?” Martin asked. “And what is up with this town? Nothing here makes sense, and that’s coming from us, and we’ve seen some weird shit.”

The angel just shrugged and said, “That’s just how it is. Look, if you don’t have any money, I’ll take whatever you got.”

Martin dropped his backpack and dug through it, “I got teabags... ointment... lip balm... a torch-“

“I’ll take the flashlight.”

“What for?” Martin asked.

Jon nudged him, “I would just do it.”

Martin sighed, “Okay, here you go,” he handed the flashlight to the angel.

Erika played with the torch, flicking it on and off, staring at it almost memorized, then turned around and left without another word.

“Hey!” Jon yelled. “Where are you going? We still need help!”

“I think we’re supposed to follow them?” Martin suggested. 

Without waiting for a response, he grabbed Jon’s hand and dashed towards the gliding angel, then slowed to a brisk walk when they caught up to them.

Erika led them a few blocks down towards the edge of town. They passed an old car lot, the cars all dirtied from sand dust and lack of maintenance, and a few houses passed that, the angel finally reached their destination.

While the angels were scattered all around town, they seemed to heavily congregate at this tiny, white, two-story house. Several stood on the porch, a couple sat on the roof, and groups of them huddled around various places within the small property. There was only guessing as to how many were inside.

Seeing this many angels in one spot gave Jon a splitting headache that only lasted a moment, but returned mildly when they got closer.

“Are you okay, Jon?” Martin asked, noticing his discomfort.

Jon reassuringly squeezed Martin’s hand, “I’m fine,” is all he said.

Tentatively, the couple approached the angels on the porch, Erika now out of sight. One of the angels stared mesmerized at a burnt-out, naked light bulb still screwed into the porch ceiling. A couple of others hummed and buzzed and made a variety of other noises that could only be described as indescribable.

“I found these two survivors,” Erika spoke up behind Martin and Jon, causing them both to turn around in surprise. Neither of them have seen them walk behind them. This drew the other angels’ attention. “We can put them with the others.”

“Others?” Martin repeated.

“Allondra!” Another angel shouted. “Allondra, we have two more!”

Martin and Jon heard a series of locks being unlatched behind the front door. After a moment, it finally swung open, revealing a tired woman, possibly in her forties. She looked right at the two of them, then glanced down the streets cautiously, before quickly thanking the angels and ushering both men inside.

They could see, as the woman, Allondra, shut the door and redid all the locks, that there were definitely other survivors in this house. There were few, compared to the thousands killed that Jon single-handedly witnessed, but knowing that at least a handful survived seemed to be nothing less than a miracle.

Most of the survivors they could see were children and teenagers with several adults overseeing them. One man was desperately trying to start a campfire in the middle of the living room with twigs and rocks.

“Telly, NO!” Allondra ran over to the mediocre twig pile and kicked it apart, then grabbed the rocks from Telly’s hands. “For the last time, this house has heating! And we live in a desert! It’s 70 degrees out right now!”

Telly laughed awkwardly, then shied away, hiding behind the sofa. Allondra let out an exhaustive sigh, then turned back towards the two men, “Sorry about that. Well, make yourselves at home and get comfortable. A meeting is about to start.”

Before either of them could ask any questions, which were plenty and urgent, Allondra turned and shouted again, “Pamela, stop eating dirt! We have real food!” and she ran out of the room and into the kitchen.

Now alone, Martin whispered loudly to Jon, “I thought they couldn’t see us!”

“I thought so too,” Jon replied. “There aren’t even supposed to be survivors. That’s not how domains work.”

“Then maybe that’s further evidence that we’re not in a domain?” Martin suggested.

“Maybe,” he agreed, “but let’s not talk about it here.”

They stopped talking when a teenaged boy approached the two of them. “I heard all that,” he said. “What does that mean?”

The boy had wild, red hair, and his visible skin had a prominent coating of freckles. For his size, his glasses almost looked too big on him.

Both men paused, unsure how to respond to the boy, “Um... What now?” Martin asked.

“I have really good hearing, so I heard you talking about a domain. And how you’re surprised that anyone could see you at all. My name’s Rodger, by the way,” he added.

“Uh, nice to meet you, Rodger,” Jon replied. “I’m Jon, and this is Martin,” he gestured. “And, um, yes, you’re right about all that. But, um, it’s difficult to explain...”

Rodger nodded, “That’s okay. I’m difficult to explain too. I don’t actually exist. I think that may be why the passengers didn’t take me.”

“Well, that does sound complicated,” Jon agreed, still unsure what to make of this.

Suddenly, a rhythmic clashing of metal alerted everyone in the house, who turned to see three men bashing pots and pans. The men, who all varied in height and build and facial hair, wore identical shirts and aprons. As they made noise, the rest of the survivors entered the living room from the kitchen and the upstairs. Rodger turned away from Jon and Martin to join the rest of the kids his age, possibly friends of his. The men only stopped when Allondra re-entered the room.

“Thank you, Baristas,” she said, now calm and composed. “That’ll do.”

She stood in the middle of the room, all eyes now on her, “We have good news. The angels managed to rescue a few others, so treat them kindly. The angels also agreed to provide us with food when we run out, which shouldn’t be for a few days. All they ask in return is either cash or outdated technology.”

“My torch isn’t outdated,” Martin muttered under his breath. Only Jon heard him but didn’t say anything.

“Now,” she continued, “We’ll speak to the new arrivals to see if any of them have any new information as to what is happening outside. Abby?”

A teary-eyed woman stepped forward. She must have been friends with Allondra for some time, because the other woman spoke softly to her reassuringly, although no one else could make out what was being said.

“Go on, Abby. Be brave,” Allondra encouraged. Abby nodded and turned towards the small crowd.

“My family had separated,” Abby began. “My husband and I hid in my brother-in-law’s science lab. They broke in and kidnapped almost everyone. Only Nilanjana and I escaped...” she paused and took a shaky breath, then continued. “We ran to the elementary school. I had heard that the secret police would keep the children safe there, so I sent my daughter and nephew to stay there. But when we got to the school entrance... everyone was gone.”

Gasps and whispers permeated while Abby continued, “The doors were broken down, and no one was left inside. The passengers took our children,” she openly wept now. “They... They took my husband.”

Allondra held Abby in an attempt to comfort her, and another woman came forward, “Yes, Abby and I were at the elementary school. It was there the angels guided us to safety,” she finished.

“Thank you, Nilanjana. Thank you, Abby,” Allondra said. She guided Abby to the sofa and continued. “We have two other survivors that just arrived. You two,” she pointed right at Martin and Jon, “please come forward and tell us what you know.”

“INTERLOPERS!” Multiple people screamed at once. Then everyone pointed at them and repeated, “Interlopers”, over and over again.

“Stop that!” Allondra ordered. “Stop that now!” The crowd slowly and hesitantly stopped yelling, although many still pointed at them, some glaring.

Jon and Martin stared uncomfortably now that all eyes were on them.

“What are your names?” Allondra prompted.

“Uhh,” They both said. They glanced at each other and turned back to the survivors.

“I’m Martin, and, uh, this is my, uh,” he hesitated, “my boyfriend, Jon.”

“We aren’t from here,” Jon added.

A man shouted from the other side of the room, “How do we know you’re not one of them?!”

“They can’t be,” another man retorted. “They’re not wearing seat upholstery, and neither of them looks like they’ve been in the sun for years!”

“Yeah, London will do that to you,” Martin quipped, then laughed awkwardly to ease the tension.

Allondra spoke up again, “I trust them. I have no reason to believe they are passengers, Let’s just listen to what they have to say.”

The tension in the room settled down. The accusing glares and gestures lessened, although a few still repeated, “Interloper,” in hushed tones.

“Look,” Jon began, “This is really hard to explain why we’re here, and we have a lot of questions ourselves.”

Allondra walked towards Jon, then stopped just close enough to get a good look at his face, her expression showing concern. She glanced at Martin, then back at him, then said in a soft voice only audible to Jon, “You must have been through a lot. And I get you both have a few questions. I did too for a while. We’ll address that later, I promise. But for now, just tell everyone what you know, and we’ll leave you be.”

Jon hesitated, then nodded, “alright,” he agreed, then spoke softly. “But I won’t tell you everything I know right now. For everyone’s sake, I will withhold some information until I have what I need to know in return.”

“Fair enough,” she agreed. “Then say your piece.”

So Jon walked into the middle of the room, with each step strategically considering what he can tell and what he should withhold for the time being. Thinking on his feet, he developed a semi-constructed, partially true story of what happened. That he and Martin were travelers that were lost and found their way to this town. Then they hid while witnessing two children being carried away by two people dressed in rags, and admitted cowardice for not stepping in and interfering. Lastly, he claimed that he managed to get close enough to the large crowd everyone was being gathered in, then ran for their lives when the slaughtering began.

A few of the survivors cried out and sobbed at hearing that last bit, especially Abby, who was already emotionally unstable. Others could only silently stare in horror. Some were quiet and hid their sorrow.

“Thank you,” Allondra finally said. “That’ll do,” she turned to the other survivors and said, “This is a dark day in our town’s history. But we will survive. We will recover from this awful tragedy, as we have many others. Stay alive, Night Vale. Stay strong. If not for yourself, then in the name of the deceased. We have the angels to protect us and keep us well. Have faith. Have hope,” she encouraged. “Now, It’s almost dinnertime. The Baristas are handing out cappuccino to anyone that can correctly recite the Barista’s anthem, and Rodger Harlan is making bleeding mushroom and gourd gumbo for everyone. This meeting is adjourned.”

The survivors, a few at a time, left the room to do whatever they were doing before. Rodger swiftly got up and went to the kitchen along with several others. One person, clearly upset, and wearing what appeared to loosely be described as a sheriff’s uniform, engaged in an argument with Allondra.

Once the two of them were out of earshot, Martin turned to Jon, “You shouldn’t have mentioned the slaughtering bit,” he chastised.

“Well, what else could I say? I can’t exactly tell the whole truth without starting an uproar of questions,” Jon retorted.

Martin shook his head, “I don’t know, but that part about the murder hasn’t even happened yet. You can’t say something happened when it hasn’t.”

“But it did, and it will happen again. Hence the whole ‘loop’ thing. Remember?”

“There was still no need for you to start a panic like that!” Martin argued. “That was still unnecessary.”

“Fine,” Jon crossed his arms. “Then next time, when the loop inevitably repeats, I’ll let you speak, and I’ll shut my useless mouth.”

Martin groaned and rolled his eyes, “You can be so _stuck up_ at times!”

“I’m not stuck up!” Jon shouted, now gaining the attention of the other people in the room.

Martin noticed the unwanted attention and decided to end the conversation then and there, “Whatever, Jon,” and he left him alone and left the room in a huff.

Jon could only stand there awkwardly as he received a few strange looks from across the room. He sighed, then joined Allondra, who was still arguing with that person.

“I understand that the angels decided that you’re in charge,” they said, visibly frustrated, “but I am still the Sheriff! And I say we rally up an army to fight those monsters now!”

“And I am telling you, Sam,” Allondra retorted, “that would be _suicide_! Our best chance of survival is to stay hidden here until they leave.”

“That’s cowardice and you know it! They have most of the town’s children now. _Children_ , Allondra! Do you really think they’ll leave us alone just because a few celestial beings are shielding us? I would say,” they brought up, “that we need to gather all the angels and have them slay those passengers!”

Jon coughed when approaching the two of them to gain their attention, “Excuse me,” he said to Sam, “but I need to speak privately to Allondra for a moment.”

Sam frowned, then pointed accusingly at Jon, “You! You’re that interloper fellow that let those children die!”

“SAM!” Allondra interjected.

They ignored her, “Whatever you have to say to her you can say to me. I’m the Sheriff of this town. Sheriff Sam,” they introduced, more so out of pride than politeness.

“Look,” Jon began, then paused to look between the two of them, “I’m sorry I didn’t intervene back there, but please let me explain myself. Can we speak somewhere privately?”

Sam and Allondra exchanged glances, then Allondra nodded, “Yes, follow me. You too, Sam,” Jon and Sam followed as Allondra led them upstairs and into a private, unused room. It appeared to be a guest bedroom that had gone mostly unused and contained little more than a freshly-made queen-sized bed and a matching nightstand.

“Where’s that boyfriend of yours?” Sam asked.

“Uh,” Jon paused, “he, uh, he’s somewhere. He’s not really important for this, actually.”

“Then talk, Jon,” Allondra said sternly. “Tell us what you didn’t say earlier.”

Jon hesitated, unsure of where to begin, “Well, it’s complicated, and this town has some strange qualities...”

“Yes, yes, we know,” Sam brushed off. “I’m getting a bit tired of hearing how weird Night Vale is, but we all know that. You’re the outsider, so get used to it.”

“Um, right, well,” he stammered, then coughed to clear his throat. “My name is Jonathan Sims, and I am known as The Archivist. That’s not a title, and I am not _an_ archivist,” he elaborated, “but it is simply who I am. A while back, the world had fallen into absolute chaos and disarray. These... entities that are like me, but _not_ like me, are thriving now. Dangerous beings that live off the fear of humans trapped in these... domains, they’re called.

“Martin and I are safe from these domains, because we, too, have power in this world. Which is why we are trying to find and kill the man responsible for this apocalypse and end all this suffering,” Jon continued. “But during our travels, we found this town accidentally, I didn’t lie about that part. We figured initially, that this town was also a domain due to its unusual qualities and the... massacre happening as we speak, but the longer I stay in this town, the more I’m convinced that this town isn’t a domain, but rather exists outside of the rest of the world altogether,” he finished. “The reason why we didn’t try to intervene before was that at first, I didn’t believe it was possible. In a domain, there’s no way to end the suffering of the victims other than to destroy the source of the fear as well as destroy the entity that owns the domain. I didn’t think I could have helped those children. Martin tried to tell me we should do something, but I didn’t listen. Had I known that we could interact with people here, then I would have done something.”

Allondra only looked confused, but Sam responded with a knowing smile and nod, “Yes, you came to the right conclusion there. Night Vale isn’t like other towns. Apocalypse or not. That’s always just how our town functions. For instance, up until a year ago, time just didn’t work normally. Made it a little troublesome to schedule government-mandated events,” Sam chuckled.

“But that’s the thing,” Jon added. “Time _isn’t_ working correctly here. I don’t know if it has to do with what’s happening everywhere else in the world, but I witnessed first-hand the entire massacre loop. Those children are technically still alive. Then they will be killed, then they’ll live again. It’s like that movie, Groundhog’s Day,” he finished.

Sam frowned at this new information, “Well, that is certainly troubling,” they said, toying with their mustache. “If what you say is true, Jonah, then this situation would be far above my pay grade to handle.”

“It’s Jon,” Jon corrected.

Allondra ignored that last bit and looked at Jon straight in the eyes, “Jon, I think this is something that is beyond mortal help.”

“I figured that much already,” he said. “The, uh, faceless woman? She told me to find a goddess. And to follow the cockroaches.”

“The Faceless Old Woman is playing games with you, Jonah!” Sam retorted. “That’s what she does! There is no cockroach goddess!" They leaned in close to Jon's ear as if to share a secret, then said in a hushed voice. "You need the Brown Stone Spire.”

“The...” Jon paused, “what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a few changes and apparently this story is gonna be MUCH longer than I thought. Big OOF for me, good news for you! So please comment and give kudos so it's worth all my hard work and editing! <3


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